


december

by curiositas



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Era, Drabble, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Jack Kelly, Mentioned Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Song: December (Neck Deep), crutchie is sad that jack left for santa fe, specs is a good friend and he's helping him through it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27225691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiositas/pseuds/curiositas
Summary: It was an early December morning, but Crutchie's mind was still stuck in that fateful summer day. The day before the strike, the rally, and before everything changed.
Relationships: Crutchie & Specs
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	december

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to @/newsies-hit-da-streets on Tumblr for beta reading this!

Tonight, it was cold.

No, it was _freezing._

It was an early December morning, but Crutchie's mind was still stuck in that fateful summer day. The day before the strike, the rally, and before everything changed.

He leaned forward on the railing of the fire escape. He didn’t pay any mind to the goosebumps all over his arms or the chattering of his teeth. He silently stared into the distant city, which gained a serene, heavenly glow in the winter haze. He had seen this view thousands of times before and all its same towering buildings when he still lived up here.

“Crutch!” a voice called from below, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps.

Crutchie snapped back to reality. He managed to tug his lips into a faint smile. “Oh, hiya, Specs.”

“What the hell are ya doin’ up here?” Specs climbed the last few steps. “It’s _freezin’!_ ”

For a moment, Crutchie didn’t respond. What was he doing up here, especially in this kind of weather? The morning bell probably wouldn’t ring for another hour or so. Why was he even awake this early?

“I dunno,” he mumbled.

Specs looked at him. “Whaddya mean you don’t know?”

Crutchie exhaled, his breath a cloud of mist. He shivered and shrugged. “Well, I-I thought the view’d be nice tonight, so-”

Specs put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Why dontcha tell me inside?”

His hand gently moved down to his wrist, but Crutchie quickly recoiled. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Specs, whose eyes widened in surprise.

“I can’t,” he blurted out, shoving his hands into his coat.

Specs could only stare, beginning to grow worried. He had never seen his friend this desperate.

“Look, I-” Crutchie scrambled for words. “I appreciate ya bein’ up here an’ all, but…”

“Was it somethin’ I said?”

“No, no, you’s is fine! I just- I _can’t_ go down.”

“Why not?”

They were quiet for a moment as the howling wind whipped past. Crutchie hesitated; he thought his reason for being up here was rather stupid.

“Crutch.”

He turned to look at Specs' outstretched hand. “I don’t wantcha turnin’ into ice up here.”

Specs didn’t care what reason he had, or how stupid it was. He wasn’t going to let his friend freeze to death.

He led Crutchie down the metal rails, slowing down his pace and being careful not to slip in the dark. They both climbed in through a window and sat on a bed. Around them, the room was filled with countless kids on bunk beds trying to sleep through the cold.

“Ya wanna talk about it?” softly began Specs, wiping his glasses. “I mean, it’s okay if ya don’t or you wanna save it for the mornin’ or-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Crutchie shook his head. He shrugged the remaining snow off of his coat and leaned against the frame of the bunk bed. “I was just...lookin’ out into the city.”

The other boy looked up at him, noticing his long silence. “And?”

Crutchie’s brows furrowed, before he gave up and sighed. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about July,” he mumbled.

Specs was quiet. He knew the July that he was talking about; _the_ July.

The summer of 1899 was the summer that changed the newsies forever. After Pulitzer and Hearst raised the price of newspapers, they all decided to go on strike. It was dangerous, something that none of them had ever done before. But through their efforts, they won the battle, and shed light on the importance of the rights of New York’s working kids. It was amazing that they, as an army kids without so much as a nickel to their name, changed the course of history. But that wasn’t the reason why it was still on Crutchie’s mind.

“‘S about Jack, huh?” he asked, finding his voice. Crutchie weakly nodded.

Every newsie in New York knew about Jack Kelly, Manhattan’s charismatic leader. He was a good fighter, a great newsie, and protected his own more than anything. Lots of kids, the two of them included, would look to him for help and guidance. He was also the face of the strike, making a statement that they weren’t gonna be pushed around anymore. For the longest time, he was known as this brave, selfless seventeen-year-old that the newsies could rely on.

Well, until he wasn’t.

Crutchie wasn’t there when it happened, but all of his friends told the same story. Jack showed up to a rally and made a speech about disbanding the union after speaking to Pulitzer. Of course, this didn’t sit well with the newsies, and especially _Spot Conlon._ Confused and frustrated shouts filled the air, but it wasn’t nearly as bad when everyone saw him take money from a man in a fancy suit.

After that, no one could convince him to stay, not even Katherine. She was the last person to give up on him - and bless her heart - but he was already bound for Santa Fe.

“He scabbed,” were the words that replayed and replayed in Crutchie’s mind. 

_He scabbed._

“I just wanna know why he did it,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes.

Specs’ heart dropped, seeing the pain in his eyes. “I know ya do.”

Crutchie’s gaze was distant, vacant. “I don’t get it. He...he said he’d take me with him.”

“Yeah,” said Specs. “Always talked about it, too.”

“We used’ta talk about it all the time, up on the fire escape,” added Crutchie. The beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips. “He’d blabber about Santa Fe every night; said it was clean an’ green an’ pretty. They’s got palominos there, too. And, he even said that the air could fix my leg, give or take a few months.”

Specs softly chuckled, remembering the dime-novel cowboy that Jack so badly wanted to be. “Cowboy really wanted to head out west, huh?”

Crutchie exhaled, almost bitterly laughing. “Guess he finally got his dream.”

Specs shifted slightly in his place. His eyes caught the soft glow of the city through one of the frost-covered windows. He gulped, the correct words forming together in his mind. “Do ya hate ‘im?”

“Huh?”

“Do ya hate ‘im? For leavin’?”

Truth be told, Crutchie was just one of the many kids who wanted to scream in Jack’s face. He wanted to know why he did what he did, if it was all worth it, if it was worth knowing that they had to win the fight without him. He wanted him to know how hurt they all were, and how things had never been the same after he up and left. He wanted to pour out every single stab and sting that he’d been carrying inside his chest for the past year.

He absentmindedly picked at the sleeve of his coat. After learning the truth about Jack, he felt so many things at once; confusion, rage, denial, misery, betrayal. The boy that he had known for so many years was suddenly gone, and never even bothered to write back. The kid who abandoned the strike wasn’t the same kid who dreamed with him every night, the kid who said that they were a _family._

“No,” whispered Crutchie.

Specs looked at him. “Ya don’t?”

He repeated that one, small word. Specs raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“I- I dunno,” Crutchie said, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I can’t really blame ‘im for leavin’ when he got the chance.”

“But he ditched us! Ain’tcha mad?”

“‘Course I’m mad! I’m _furious!_ ” he explained, his voice a bit louder than he intended it to be. “It’s just...I _can’t_ hate ‘im. Part a’ me still wants to believe he’s a good kid. As much as I wanna, I just- can’t.”

His vision began to blur and his voice grew softer. “Everythin’ we been through, I wanna think it was worth somethin’. When he said that we’s family, I think he meant it.”

Specs paused and stared at him. Crutchie was undoubtedly one of the happiest kids in the Lodging House, probably even in all New York. Even with his gimp leg, his positivity remained relentlessly infectious. The glimmer in his eyes could light up the whole city. His sunshine smile would beam whenever he would laugh or charm strangers to buy a pape. And when he was with Jack, it couldn’t be brighter - whether they were excitedly chattering, giggling, or simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Specs moved closer. “He did,” the boy spoke. “And it _was_ worth somethin’. Jack meant a lot to all of us, ‘specially you. And it’s hard, ‘cause it’s like he ain’t the guy we knew he was no more. But I guess, the Jack that we knew was real, even now.”

They were quiet for a while, listening to the snow beat against the window. Crutchie let himself lean on Specs’ side and he pulled his coat closer to his body. Specs wrapped an arm around him, and he stayed very still when he felt damp patches on his shirt. He realized he was _very quietly_ crying.

Crutchie pulled away, removing his friend’s arm. “Sorry.”

“No, Crutch, it’s okay,” Specs quickly interjected. “Cryin’s okay sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He gave him a soft smile. “My Ma used ta tell me; when you’s feelin’ bad, sometimes you gotta cry to let out the things makin’ ya feel that way.”

“So, I gotta cry all the time?”

“Nah, cryin’ ain’t so good when ya do it everyday,” Specs laughed. “It’s better for when you’re feelin’ _really_ bad.” 

Crutchie paused. “Like now?”

“Yeah.”

At those words, a few more silent tears slipped from his eyes. Specs pulled him into an embrace. In reality, they knew that they should’ve been asleep by now. In a few hours, they would be out on the streets once again, trying their best to make a living. As soon as the winter rolled around, their job only got harder. But at that moment, the freezing cold and the copper coins didn’t seem to matter. They didn’t care who would chance upon them or how strange the sight of them would seem; right now, they needed each other, and that mattered more than anything.

A bittersweet smile crept up on Crutchie’s face. “I hope he got the life he wanted,” he whispered.

“Me too,” mumbled Specs. It was true, he thought. The Manhattan newsies didn’t take kindly to scabs, but Jack wasn’t just another scab. He was a leader, a friend, a _brother._ He spent so much of his life giving that he rarely got the chance to take for himself, and then the day came that he finally did. Admittedly, it didn’t have the best timing, but even with the gigantic mess it left behind, the two of them understood.

When he was ready, Crutchie pulled away and dried his eyes with his sleeve. “Sorry I kept ya, it’s late.”

“It’s fine, really, I don’t mind,” replied Specs. “‘S a good thing I saw you was gone, or else you woulda froze.”

Crutchie chuckled. “Gotta admit, though; the view’s killer.”

“Yeah,” Specs grinned. “But try ta wait ‘til spring, will ya?”

The two softly laughed. They hoped they hadn’t woken anyone up with their conversation. Specs climbed up to the top bunk and Crutchie got under his blanket. As he leaned on his side, the noise in his head seemed to die down a little. Of course, he’d rather have it that Jack stayed behind for a little while longer, but he knew that nothing could bring him back now. Instead, he could only wonder how things were like out west, and hope that Santa Fe was everything Jack dreamed it would be.


End file.
